


Ashes to Ashes

by lovethecoat51



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-16
Updated: 2014-11-16
Packaged: 2018-02-25 15:35:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2626970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovethecoat51/pseuds/lovethecoat51
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Canon major character death (off screen)</p>
<p>Remember that time Steve died and Mrs. F died and HG died and the Warehouse blew up? Artie's never gonna forget it, though he ran away to his and James' house to try.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ashes to Ashes

He was tired. _So_ tired. The nearest exit from the Warehouse floor had been four miles away. He grimly supposed that at least they were able to make a beeline for the ladder - the metal was even still warm to the touch when they reached it - instead of weaving through endless aisles. And that was before factoring in the trauma of the past few hours.

Steve. Helena. Mrs. Frederic & the Warehouse. All lost because he and James had been just a few days, maybe hours too late so many years ago. Jane could beat herself up all she wanted, but _she_ wasn't the one who had snagged and bagged that artifact. 

It wasn't until he took a breath of fresh air that it hit him: he had nothing. No Warehouse, no office, not even a _bedroom_ anymore. He'd be welcome at the B &B, he knew, but he just couldn't stand being there right now. He needed to be alone, one of the things he would miss the greatest about his little hidey hole at the Warehouse. He could lock the world (barring the little hack Claudia, of course) away and just ignore it for a few blessed hours. 

His home was gone.

He still had a _house_  though, he realized sadly.

It had been long, so long, since he'd been here. Yes, he brought Steve and Sally here as a way to keep them safe, but he hadn't lingered. Not after he found out certain truths that broke his heart all the more. Now, though, he had no place else to go. It was time to face his demons, whether he wanted to or not.

He silently trudged up the stairs, trying to ignore the pictures on the wall and carefully stepping over the books piled on each stair. Carefully he reached into his pocket and drew out an iron skeleton key and fitted it into a lock on the door. Decades of no use made the lock a little sticky, but it opened with relative ease.

The next step he took was the absolute hardest one of his life. He hadn't been in this room for seventeen years, not since the night James used the phoenix and managed to get himself banned from the Warehouse and Artie's life.

It still bore the marks of his rage. Drawers were scattered everywhere, clothes flung haphazardly, the bed piled high with books that had yet to be read, reports that were half-written, and all manner of unfinished business.

But he was tired. He didn't have the time or energy to deal with any of that right now. He took his arm and swept half the bed clean, shoving it all onto the floor to be dealt with when he had the strength. If that ever came.

Then he saw the picture. Sitting on the bedside table, where it had resided ever since they moved in. Two young, arrogant agents just about set out on the journey of a lifetime.

"Take care of him, James. I couldn't."

And so Artie sat down on a too big bed in a too empty house and, for the first time in a long time, let himself cry.


End file.
